Wakeboarding

• Jonathan Morgan, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2006

Feel the hurrying wind race by,
Faster than the fastest water slide
The water left behind as I fly
A bullet leaving the barrel of a gun

The board cuts across,
Slicing through like a knife
Speeding across the glass,

Climb up the sloping wake
Shoot off the top
Skid above the churning lake

Like a cat pouncing on a mouse
Hit the surface hard, board sliding
An avalanche moving down,
A mountain, slow, steady, relentless

I slip down and go under
A magnificent fall